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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284743">Two Wolves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac'>ausmac</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:14:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anduin receives advice, and a potential ally, from an unexpected source.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two Wolves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthas didn't so much walk as stagger through the doorway and into the room.  Once inside he grabbed the doorpost to stop from swaying.  As his focus sharpened he saw the figure standing rigidly still across the room, and froze.</p><p>She was very much as he remembered.  While his memory was damaged, Arthas rather thought he'd never forget that face.</p><p>He was aware of her watching him with a sort of feral intent, rather like a beast that really wanted to rip out his innards.  <em>Not that I actually have any innards</em>.  The grave humour almost made him smile, along with the thought that the two of them did share something at least; she was undead and he was completely so.</p><p>Sylvanas took a step forward and Arthas had to control a natural impulse to back up.  Even in his state he sensed her power.  Whatever she had been when he'd known her, this Sylvanas existed on a whole new level.  Running away wouldn't solve anything and he rather thought he was past escape attempts.  So he took the psychologically direct approach.</p><p>"Hullo Sylvanas.  It's been a long time."</p><p>She stopped and let her eyes range over his misty form.  "Not long enough."</p><p>"I agree.  Why am I here?  So you can tear my incorporeal self apart?"</p><p>"On the contrary," she said, voice very cool.  "You are here to serve a purpose.  We have work for you that will actually involve you leaving this place.."</p><p>"Sign me up.  Happy to help."</p><p>"Shut up."  The tone was icy and he obediently did so.  "In fact, do not speak until I either tell you to or ask a question.  The mere sound of your voice tempts me to…make you regret speaking.  Ever."</p><p>He nodded and resisted making any sound.  While she was powerful and could undoubtedly make him regret things, he was very curious.  He'd regained some semblance of self in the Maw and been horrified by it.  And frankly, frightened.  He had no idea how long he'd drifted without memory or any real self-awareness.  He had no power, no body, no strength, only a torn memory filled with gaps and no one to answer his many questions.  He needed to practise patience.</p><p>"I will tell you enough to provide you with information you need.  Upon your death, your soul was sent here, to the Maw, by a renegade agent of the Shadowlands and your old…friend…Uther, in an act of vengeance which I can appreciate.  The Power of this place, the Jailer, has decided to make use of you.  He was, in fact, the one who was responsible for turning you via the Helm and Frostmourne.  And he has recently created another weapon similar to you who has a set of very important duties to perform.  Your purpose in being here is to assist in ensuring he carries out those duties."  She watched as Arthas opened, and then closed his lips, and nodded again.  "Ask your question."</p><p>"Who.  Who is this new weapon?"</p><p>"The King of Stormwind, High King of the Alliance and son of Varian Wrynn.  Anduin Wrynn."</p><p>He pawed at his broken memories.  Varian he remembered from his youth.  He had no recollection of meeting Anduin Wrynn.  "So Varian is dead.  Is he here?"</p><p>"I have no idea.  His son, however, is an extremely powerful Priest with a strong connection to both the Light and the Void.  Your purpose is to establish a connection with Anduin, to make use of your own experience to assess his state and keep him grounded.  He will be able to see and hear you – no one else will."</p><p>The idea of being anywhere near another creature such as he had been in life didn't appeal but he knew he had no choice at that moment.  Circumstances might arise that would be to his benefit but at that moment, in this particular game, others held all the pieces.  So he followed Sylvanas as ordered, drifting through the apparently endless corridors of the prison.  They passed the faint remnants of souls chained and moaning and knew that could have easily been his fate.</p><p>They finally came to a tower flanked by armoured guards, passed through a huge double metal door and into a room almost empty of anything resembling furniture or fittings.  Just a chair, a simple stone thing with a small table next to it.  A figure was seated there, back straight, hands on the arm rests.  But it was the sword that caught his eye.</p><p>Of everything he'd seen around him, it was the thing that was most alive.  It thrummed with power, a low, predatory sensation, as aware as a beast crouched on the table.  If he'd had nerves, he knew that thing's power would have tingled with a familiarity both appealing and horrifying.</p><p>It was a mournblade and appearances aside, utterly familiar.  But its power wasn't calling to him – it whispered to the man seated in the chair next to it, as still and motionless as a corpse.  Without being told to he drifted closer and carefully placed his hand on one of young man's hands.</p><p>Arthas wasn't certain how long that contact lasted.  It could have been moments, or hours.  Time was different there, in a place where perception and subjectivity were blurred.  And although he knew that he could never again be tired, when he finally pulled back he felt stretched and he ached somehow.  He slid back and turned to Sylvanas, who hadn't moved from her place just inside the door.</p><p>"He is in agony.  Did you know that?  Can you even sense such things anymore?"</p><p>Here eyelids drooped.  "Irrelevant."</p><p>"No, it isn't.  He is fighting against the control with every ounce of his being.  Everything he is, all his physical strength, his cognitive abilities, his powers, every tiny bit of it him is trying to build some sort of barrier.  Of course, he's losing.  He knows he can't win but he keeps fighting anyhow."  Arthas looked back at the motionless man, whose eyes stared sightlessly ahead.  "That is one stubborn young man.  A great deal like his father."  He shrugged, putting aside the pity and the respect.  "He will likely lose his sanity before he dies from it."  Despite the sword's angry thrumming, he moved forward again and placed ghostly hand on Anduin's bare head.  "I assume his death at this point isn't in your plans or he would already be that.  If his being alive is important, I'd suggest something be done to stop his struggle before it breaks his mind.  I doubt his body would last long beyond that."</p><p>She sounded impatient.  "It is why you are here.  Help him."</p><p>"To do what?  Survive?  Give in?  What?"</p><p>"To understand."</p><p>"Very well."  He turned back towards Anduin, paused.  "But I need to do this alone.  It will be difficult enough trying to explain to him why I, of all people, are talking to him.  Having you here will make it harder." He turned his head, saw her eyelids droop and a certain understanding of her ways made him think she doubted his intent.  "He distrusts you.  He will almost certainly distrust me.  I need privacy for this to work."</p><p>Time drifted in the way of things there and he wasn't sure if it was moments or hours alter when she nodded.  "Very well.  But I will be close by.  Be prepared to lose your…privacy..if you disappoint me."</p><p>Then she was gone in a waft of smoke and he was alone with Anduin.</p>
<hr/><p>Anduin became aware of a presence, an unfamiliar one and he lifted his head.  It wasn't easy to focus: his vision was blurry as if there was something there but wiping them did nothing.  After a time they cleared and he blinked away a last misty residue to see the young man standing a short distance away.</p><p>He was dressed in well-worn but serviceable training leathers, with no weapon visible.  He was tall, Anduin suspected a bit taller than himself, with pale skin and hair of a similar colour to his own, long and tied back into a single tail.  Blue eyes were watching him and the handsome features were calm, though his head was tilted slightly, almost as if he was curious.  It was almost…normal.</p><p>"Hullo Anduin."</p><p>The voice was deep, very human and that warmed him because it had been so long since he'd heard a human voice.  "Who…are…you?"</p><p>The stranger hesitated, blinked.  "An anticipated question, I admit.  And it deserves an honest answer.  I'm Arthas."</p><p>Tendrils of cold swirled in Anduin's chest.  Not fear, surprise perhaps but also the beginnings of anger.  "Arthas."</p><p>"Yes, and you are right, I'm that Arthas."</p><p>"The Lich King."  He felt the anger growing and the sword resting beside him began to mutter. </p><p>"No.  I said I'm Arthas.  Arthas Menethil, son of a murdered father and a long dead mother."  The tone was firm but not dangerously so.  "There's a difference, you know."</p><p>"I can't see it.  Whatever you are here, that's what you were."</p><p>Arthas sighed and curled his arms across his chest.  "This might take some time.  How about we get one thing clear.  I am no threat to you.  You could pick up that sword and shatter me to dust and there isn't a thing I could do to stop you.  So perhaps ask yourself why I'm here, given that fact.  And allow me to explain."</p><p>It took an effort but Anduin pushed the darker emotions aside so he could think clearly.  "Very well.  Explain."</p><p>Arthas did something unexpected – he sat.  With smooth grace he crouched and planted himself on the floor, crossing his legs and resting both hands on his knees.  "Alright, one fact to start.  In the history of the cosmos, there have been only two people who have wielded a mournblade.  I was one and you are the other.  That makes the two of us part of a very small but important set.  There is no one else but me who can offer you the information you need in that regard.  Which is the reason I'm here."  His eyelids lowered, obscuring his eyes in a slow blink.  "I suspect nobody has given you the slightest hint of what you are capable of, and what the sword is capable of doing to you."</p><p>That was true enough and Anduin nodded once.  "You suspect right.  But why should you, of all people, want to help me?  And I presume you do what to help me?"</p><p>Arthas' lips quirked in a twisted smile.  "I do indeed.  You do realise what I am and where we are?"</p><p>Understanding sparked in Anduin's mind.  "You aren't alive.  You are a…"</p><p>"Spirit, yes.  The soul of a man who died years ago.  We are communicating soul to soul in this place of your making.  Your soul sees me this way.  Am I terribly ugly?"</p><p>"You don't know?"</p><p>"No, I can see you because I know what you look like from information given to me.  I have no idea how I appear to you."</p><p>Anduin studied the soul of his people's enemy.  It seemed completely human.  "You look like a man around my age, blond, blue eyed, healthy.  And you are wearing leather training gear."</p><p>"Really?  Well, I suppose that means I'm rather like your squire, here to help you and train with you.  You're rather intuitive, which is helpful."</p><p>"So tell me then.  What's in store for me?  How can I survive this and be free?  Or is that even possible?"</p><p>"A number of important questions.  What is in store for you?  A lot of pain and grief.  Can you survive it?  Possibly, it depends on how strong you are and whether your own people can free you without killing you.  That wasn't possible for me."</p><p>Anduin sensed things; sadness, a hint of anger, loneliness.  "Did you not want to be free?"</p><p>"My story is a long one and not really worth telling in detail.  However, I will say this – during my time under the control of the Lich, there was not one single being on Azeroth who cared about me, or wanted anything but to see me dead.  Nobody knew I was living in the hell of my own mind, controlled and twisted by the Lich, forced to do unspeakable things.  Did I do some of them willingly?  Yes, I did.  There were times when, driven by rage and misery and hopelessness, I lashed out and slaughtered and destroyed.  Oh, he delighted in me at those times, seeing me kill of my own will.  But mostly I just lived in a tiny corner of my mind while he used my body as a weapon.  I'm hoping I can teach you how to build a similar sanctuary in your mind where you can escape to if the pressure becomes too great.  It may be the only way to stay sane and alive until help does reach you Unlike me, who spent those years in captivity alone, you have many people who care about you, and that is the significant difference between us."</p><p>Anduin shivered.  "That just makes it worse.  I'll get to see the hatred and disgust in their eyes when I betray them."</p><p>He heard the slow, indrawn breath, the outgoing sigh and focused on the pale face watching him without pity but only tempered patience.  "When I was young," Arthas said slowly as he seemed to look beyond Anduin, "my old arms master said to me, Arthas…</p><p>"You'll end up as the Lich King?"</p><p>Arthas snorted, a brief chuckle.  "Not quite, though he did predict I'd fall over my own ego.  No, he said that everyone has two wolves inside them.  A good wolf and an evil wolf.  And he asked, which one do you think will end up on top?"</p><p>Anduin smiled.  "I know this.  Whichever wolf you feed the most."  He shifted in his chair, warmed by the memory. "My father told it to me.  He had an intimate understanding of separation, and of wolves, of course.   I suppose he felt a connection to that saying, as well as it being something wise to impart to me."</p><p>"And that is exactly the point."  Arthas stood, unfurling himself and he moved closer, only feet away from Anduin and the sword.  "You also are in two parts, bearing two wolves.  The good wolf is you, your soul and your strength and all that is best about you.  And there is the dark wolf, the part the sword will call to draw out and twist and overwhelm the good.  It will ride you, claw at your back, digs its fangs into you because evil knows the ways of pain and pressure, knows your weak spots.  You must keep feeding the good wolf, stay sane and never let the evil wolf devour what makes you, you."</p><p>The room started to waver, the light dimmed and Arthas stepped slowly, carefully backwards.  "Our time is up for now.  Think on what I've said.  When I can, I'll come back because I have a lot yet to teach you.  Remember me, remember the wolves."</p><p>"I doubt I can forget you."</p><p>Arthas smiled, a perfectly human expression.  "One good thing about being infamous, I suppose.  But remember to feed the good wolf, find its den and hide there when the pain and the pressure gets too much.  And I will be back…I promise…"</p><p>Then he was gone.  Things blinked, light shimmered and changed into shadow and he was back where he'd been, sitting rigidly in the place where his Master had told him to wait.  Shalamourne sparkled and hissed and although it didn't sound like a wolf, it's claws were just as sharp as one.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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